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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261947">salut d'amour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattanmatcha/pseuds/manhattanmatcha'>manhattanmatcha</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>seijoh series [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aobajousai, Classical Music, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, He is smol, Iwaizumi Hajime Is So Done, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Boyfriend, Not Serious, i love him!, i love iwaizumi hajime!, yes - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:27:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattanmatcha/pseuds/manhattanmatcha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>language has never been either of your forte. instead, you and iwaizumi communicate with music.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>seijoh series [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>salut d'amour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>disclaimer: well, u know, the fucking phenomenal and heartwrenching manga/anime haikyuu? yeah. it doesn't belong to me~</p><p>by the way, this is dedicated to @CORIO. i hope you see this hahah! thanks for all your comments. seriously, it means so much to know someone enjoys my writing enough to leave a few words of their own :') anyways, hope yall enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a Tuesday in May, in Irvine, California, and one of Iwaizumi Hajime's last lectures has just gotten cancelled. "Hajime," one of his classmates call out, "where ya going? Come get drinks with us!"</p><p>"I've got a meeting in two hours, so..." he shrugs. "Another time, definitely."</p><p>Smiling and waving, they acquiesce. Iwaizumi watches them leave, surprised to feel a pang in his chest. Obviously the culture of the United States wouldn't be anything like Japan's, and he's even made a few good friends here, but after 2 years, California still feels like a new shoe. The truth is, Iwaizumi Hajime misses home. <em>It's not just that, </em>Iwaizumi muses, he misses not only the warmth and familiarity of Miyagi, but the comforting presence of his friends.</p><p>A few days ago, Oikawa had made some offhand comment while they were on FaceTime. <em>It's hard, Iwa-chan. </em>"It gets to the point where you begin to believe that if it isn't hard, then you aren't giving it everything you can," his best friend continued, in a rare moment of showing Iwaizumi what exactly was behind Oikawa Tooru's vapid mask. </p><p>"The hard times outweigh the fun," Iwaizumi had replied. "In any case, we must persevere. That's the only way."</p><p>The two boys had let that sit for a few minutes, before arranging themselves again. Oikawa was back to his silly self, and Iwaizumi gruffly reminded him of Aoba Johsai's motto, <em>Rule the Court. </em>"You can't do that if you're not taking proper care of yourself. Your bags look even scarier than last week."</p><p>"Aww, Iwa-chan! You're like my mom--" Iwaizumi had hung up, exasperated.</p><p>Now, thinking back on this conversation makes him feel even more vulnerable, and a little cold, even though it's sunny and surprisingly hot for May. He decides to take the long way back to the dorms, winding past practice rooms that the conservatory students use. He's always been a fan of classical music, and with more exposure to the process of becoming an artist Iwaizumi has begun to respect his fellow students more and more. He figures it's kind of like going pro in the volleyball world; it takes a lot of hard work, and then some--</p><p>Suddenly breaking through his line of thought is a quiet sob.</p><p>
  <em>Huh?</em>
</p><p>He follows the sound to an open practice room, where he finds you crouched over the ground, your violin case still on your back, hands trying to muffle your sobs. Sensing his presence, you look up, and his breath hitches. Even with your puffy eyes and running nose, you are beautiful. </p><p><em>Hold up, what? </em>Iwaizumi thinks. <em>What did I just think? </em>Iwaizumi has never been one to engage with girls in a non-platonic manner. In fact, he has never noticed or singled out a girl in particular ever since... primary school, really. His (lack of) love life is something Oikawa never fails to poke around and laugh at.</p><p>But Iwaizumi's heart still skips when he sees you. <em>Okay. That's weird.</em></p><p>"Oh! I'm sorry, was this room taken?" you're asking now. "I didn't know! I'll go now!" And then you're darting past him, not stopping even after Iwaizumi calls out once, twice.</p><p>He debates whether chasing after you will be awkward for a split second, and decides against it when he looks into the room again. You've dropped something. </p><p>An empty locket molded in the shape of a heart on a chain. Before he can think twice, Iwaizumi slips it into his pocket.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>10 YEARS LATER</strong> </em>
</p><p>"And it's still lost," you say crossly. "10 years later."</p><p>"I don't know why you're still hung up over it," your best friend Sumire says. "First of all, you lost it 10 years ago. <em>10 years</em>. Second of all, you lost it in another continent. <em>Another continent</em>. Third of all, you're the one who never came back to campus, so. Get over it. By the way, did you see the article I sent you? <em>The </em><em>New York Times </em>says: 'Well on her way to global recognition as one of the leading musicians of her generation, (Name) pulled off another beautiful recital at Carnegie Hall the other night. Her album doesn't do her justice -- in person, her sound is impossibly thick and tender, yet still fresh and sweet. Her vibrato melts on the sharpest tongues, her phrasing elegant and rich. (Name) started off the program with the vibrant and joyful Kreisler's <em>Liebesfreud, </em>known as Love's Joy--"</p><p>"Yes, yes, yes, I read it," you say hastily. You're not one to think too much about themselves; it makes you uncomfortable to say the least. </p><p>"Okay, I forgot how anal you are about not reading reviews. Alright, can I just ask one thing? Why'd you switch up the program? Why'd you end with <em>Liebesleid?</em>"</p><p>You sigh. This is the question everyone has been asking you. Your manager, your CD brand, your teachers, your colleagues, your friends, even your parents have wondered. "I don't know," you admit truthfully to Sumire. "It just felt right. And not to sound like a pre-college student, but I practiced that piece the most so I was most comfortable with it."</p><p>"Well, it paid off," Sumire says, brushing off your self loathing. "<em>The New York Times </em>says: 'With Kreisler's <em>Liebesleid,</em> Love's Sorrow, (Name) ended the program on an introspective and melancholy note, conjuring up images of love's many sorrows -- loves lost, loves forgotten, loves unrequited -- for us, the willing audience. The music was glistening with color, reminiscent of an O'Keeffe watercolor. In her performance of this last piece, I felt closer to (Name) than ever. Her <em>Liebesleid </em>was personal, transparent, and revealed to me more than any interview ever could.'"</p><p>"The O'Keeffe comparison I enjoyed. It was really too kind," you admit. "But still. You're only reading the nice parts. The same review said my <em>Pagniniana </em>almost got carried away with recklessness. <em>Gotten carried away,</em> really! It's like I'm in sixth grade again. The worst part is that he was right! It's all because my locket. I can't play my best without it. I need to practice."</p><p>"No you're not," Sumire shoots back. "I have MSBY tickets. I was going to go with my boyfriend, but there's an emergency work thing he can't make it so you're coming."</p><p>"Volleyball, huh." You pretend to think out loud for Sumire's sake. "No, I don't--"</p><p>"Yes, you are coming. You don't have anything planned for the next 2 and a half weeks. I checked with your manager." <em>Damn, Nobara-san. </em>"And you have got to get out of the house not only for you, but for your music too. 功夫在詩外."</p><p>"You're using that proverb wrong," you grumble. But you acquiesce. "What do I wear?"</p><p>Forty minutes later you find yourself in the front of the door to the MSBY Black Jackal's locker rooms, hanging off the arm of your best friend. "Sumire, if I knew this was going to be so much trouble, I <em>wouldn't have come," </em>you hiss quietly.</p><p>She dismisses your quiet panic with a wave and gently pries off your fingers that are clenched on her forearm. "I'm a sports editor. Speaking to athletes is part of the job description. And be thankful! The seats that we have are priced at a few hundred, but we get to be here for free!"</p><p>"Yes, but--"</p><p>You're cut off by the door opening, revealing a friendly looking man with spiky black hair who slightly towers you. He looks about your age, you think as he shakes Sumire's hand. "You must be Shouda-san. I'm Iwaizumi Hajime."</p><p>"Call me Sumire, please! And this is my best friend, (Name), she's a violinist. (Name), this is Iwaizumi Hajime, the athletic trainer for Team Japan as well as MSBY."</p><p>You hold our your hand. "Pleasure."</p><p>Iwaizumi stills for a split second. Then, just as quickly, he recovers his composure, making you doubt whether he really broke character or if you just imagined the shock in his eyes, the slackening of his mouth. He pumps your hand twice, firmly. "The pleasure is mine." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i swore this wouldn't become a multichappie thing. and oh well, look where that got us. buckle up kids, we're in for a ride!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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